Playing Keepaway
by Tondayala Cherise Dupre
Summary: Harry visits Malfoy Manor to give Draco his wand back. Needless to say, things don't exactly go as planned... warnings for bad language, EWE, minor mature themes
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:So, after a brief journey into the world of Blaise/Neville, I have returned to the Harry/Draco Kingdom with an offering that is hopefully less crack-ish. So: a tiny bit of background. Draco is under house arrest, Lucius has three years in Azkaban, and Narcissa has three months, but Harry argued for her in front of Wizengamot. (The last thing won't come up in this chapter, but it'll come up later.)**

**Warnings: Language, snark, and mature themes.**

**Disclaimer: I am not a rich, blonde, freckly British woman with four children. Therefore, I am not JKR, and I don't own the rights to any of the recognizable content. I just like to play with it.**

**Please read and review!**

HDHDHD

There was a boy at the top of the stairs. He looked worried, and pale, and not altogether himself.

Harry couldn't quite help but watch him as he descended. It wasn't that he was wary around him - although he could have been - or that he didn't like him – although he should have. It had more to do with the triangle of exposed skin at the base of the boy's neck, the way his hair was cut short and sharp, the way hopelessness mingled with the pride in his eyes.

"Potter."

It wasn't a question, but Harry took it as one and launched into his explanation: "Icametoreturnyour wandbecauseIdon'."

Draco Malfoy nodded and the faint beginnings of a smirk appeared in the corners of his mouth. "Potter, I would like to introduce you to a fascinating little topic. It's called _enunciation_. Using it allows me to understand you. While I am aware that your friends understand your primitive grunts, _I_ have more class than to speak your Neanderthal language."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. So Malfoy hadn't changed, after all. This time, he spoke clearly. "Here is your wand, Malfoy. Take it and go your merry way. Or in your case, your arrogant, idiotic, blind way."

"That was almost witty, Potter. I'm astonished." The smirk had become more pronounced and Harry wanted to wipe it off Malfoy's stupid face.

But he didn't.

Instead, he simply turned around and began to walk back the way he had come, out the door and down the drive.

"Potter! Potter! SCARHEAD! What about my wand?"

Harry called over his shoulder, not looking around, "I'll give it back to you when you don't act like a prat!"

Harry heard the frustrated shouting of Draco as he Disapparated. He smiled. This was going to be fun.

HDHDHDHD

"Good morning, Malfoy."

The boy was at the top of the stairs again. The only difference was that this time, he was in his pajamas, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Potter, would you be so kind as to tell me what the fuck you're doing here at _three in the morning_? And why the wards keep letting you in? It's been two weeks and they haven't figured out yet that I _don't want to see you_."

Harry fought to maintain a straight face. It was hard, though, with Malfoy's hair sticking straight up like that. Harry imagined he'd be mortified if he knew what he looked like."Firstly, I came to return your wand, but you've messed that up already. And about the second thing, I have your wand."

" So?" Malfoy asked, in a tone that clearly meant _you are an asshole._

"So, the wards think I'm you, and they let me in whenever I want. Including this beautiful morning."

"Its beauty is up for debate, since I can't yet _see_ it."

"Did you honestly just try to make an insult out of not being able to _see_ the morning?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

Draco sniffed. "I may have."

"Wow, you _have_ sunk low. Well, I'll be seeing you, then, Malfoy," Harry said cheerily, and strode back down the driveway.

Malfoy didn't even bother to call after him.

HDHDHDHD

"Malfoy, could you please explain to me why this lovely little creature will _not let me go_?"

Malfoy glanced up from the letter he was writing to see Harry standing there, fuming, with a House Elf dressed in several lace doilies seemingly fused to his leg. Slowly, calmly, almost cheerily, he said, "Why, Potter, since I can't get rid of you with the wards, I figured I'd simply let the House Elves escort you out of the Manor if they happened to see you."

"Well, clearly it doesn't work, as I am here and the House Elf can't do anything about it."

"True enough. Can I have my wand back now?"

"As a matter of fact, no, because the House Elf _bit_ me and won't fucking let go of me. And since she's your House Elf, what she does is your fault."

"True. Missy," The House Elf looked up sharply, and Malfoy continued, "You are not to let go of this man under any circumstances, for the next two days."

Harry scowled. Bastard. "You know," he said, as conversationally as he could, " This really won't help you get your wand back."

"Yeah, I know. But if I'm not going to get my wand back yet, I might as well get some fun out of this."

Malfoy smiled.

Harry ground his teeth, and strode away as fast as he could with a House Elf attached to his leg.

HDHDHDHD

"Good evening, Malfoy."

"Good evening, Potter."

"Nice evening, yeah? Not that you'd really know, what with that house arrest and everything." Harry carefully kept the smile on his face composed and nonthreatening. Not that it mattered, anyway. Malfoy was already grinding his teeth. A vein was throbbing on his temple.

Harry counted backwards in his head. _Three...two...one..._

"Potter. I'll take my wand back now."

"Well, that wasn't too polite, was it? Maybe you can make it up to me. What's the magic word?"

Malfoy broke. "NOW. NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, POTTER! FOR FUCK'S SAKE, CAN'T YOU JUST GIVE ME MY WAND BACK ALREADY?"

"No, I don't think I can. You see, that wasn't very polite. And," Harry continued, backing towards the door, "What common language, Malfoy! What would your mother say? Oh wait, she's locked up in Azkaban, so she can't say anything, can she?"

That did it.

Malfoy lunged over a very expensive piece of statuary towards Harry's head, as Harry pulled open the door and fled down the drive.

HDHDHDHDHD

"Good evening, Mal- OH GREAT WHOMPING WILLOWS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Harry roared as he stepped into the foyer.

Malfoy glanced up, panting a little bit. He didn't look particularly disturbed, unlike the -_Was that the garden boy?_ Harry thought briefly-man beneath him. Instead, he smirked and said dryly, "Well, I believe, in some circles, it is known as coitus. Otherwise known as sex, shagging, copulating, fucking, screwing, boy on boy love, mano y mano-"

"Goodbye, Malfoy." Harry said, once his brain had started functioning again. Hastily, he made his exit.

He did _not_ need to stay there any longer.

But Malfoy called out, "Wait, Potter, what about my wand?"

Harry couldn't help himself. "Well, Malfoy, I'll say I think you're putting it to very good use and just leave it at that, yeah?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Because I could not possibly leave that little piece of fun at one chapter, I have another one (and quite soon, I will have another, and another). Actually, I'm not entirely certain, how long this will be. It keeps expanding in my brain, which is rapidly becoming an issue. Anyway, ENJOY and please () REVIEW. Thanks. :)**

DHDHDHDHDH

"Oh my God, Hermione, it was insane! And he was just there, and he didn't look bothered or put out or anything and he was, like, _panting_ a little bit and oh my God, he was screwing the garden boy! Crazy!"

Hermione nodded patiently. "Yes, Harry, I understand that it was a little bit mad, but this is the _third time_ you've told me. I think you're a little bit fixated on Malfoy- I mean, you've always been- but this too much. This is _not healthy_."

"What? I'm not fixated! He's just a slimy git. So I get upset when I talk about him. And that's all."

She paused for a moment nodded slowly and continued. "Harry, I understand that you think he's a slimy git. However, normally, when people think someone's a slimy git, they do not discuss his arse. You do."

"Well, it- it was-it was there!" Harry blustered, a little bit of desperation coming into his eyes.

"Yes. But that's still not a reason for you to discuss it, yes?"

Harry stopped. Weakly, he said, "Well, you see-" but Hermione was already continuing in business-like tones.

"I've arranged for you to see a therapist. In the meantime, suck it up, show me the courage you had when you defeated _the most evil wizard of our time_, and give Malfoy back his damn wand. And Harry, please, stop going on and on about his arse whenever we talk. It's gotten annoying."

That was it. Harry was floored. "But-but-Hermione! I can't just- and a therapist? Honestly?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Harry, this has gone on long enough. Say hi to Ginny for me!"She swept importantly out of his cubicle

Harry sank down into his (ergonomically designed, plush, privilege-of-saving-the-world) office chair. But there was no point in resisting. Slowly, he picked up his coat and walked out of the Auror Department. As he passed the receptionist, he said, "Wellesly, would you be so kind as to inform Mr. Shacklebolt that I will be taking the day off?"

The receptionist sat up very sharply and straightened his ascot before saying, " _Mis_-ter Potter, you know very well that Trainees are not allowed to leave early under any circumstances."

"Wellesly..." Harry let his face fall into what Ginny called his "small puppy near death" face. "Hermione_ Granger _is making me do something for her."

"Oh. Really? What is it? Do tell?"

"Be nice to someone I really, really don't like. Also potentially see a therapist."

"And Miss _Granger_ is doing this?"

"Yup."

"You may go. I pride myself on being strict in upholding Ministry Regulations, but that girl scares the fuck out of me."

Harry snorted. Trust Hermione to make a name for herself in under eight months working for Wizengamot. And a reputation as being completely terrifying. "Thanks, Wellesly."

"What shall I tell Mr. Shacklebolt?"

"Tell him anything you like!"

Harry swung past the new and improved Atrium Fountain 2.0 (it depicted several young wizards, witches, werewolves, centaurs, etc., etc., holding hands) and out the door, momentarily in high spirits.

That would end very shortly.

DHDHDHDHDHD

He strode up the driveway, gravel crunching pleasantly underfoot. He noticed the fateful garden boy pruning a nearby hedge, but neither acknowledged the other.

Hermione's words rang through his mind, and he allowed a tiny, reluctant part of his brain to think that maybe, maybe she was right and he had been a tad tiny little bit obsessed with Malfoy for quite a while now.

But then he was at the door and he was swinging that stupid, overly large door knocker in the shape of some ancient Malfoy ancestor's head and the door was answered by the same House Elf who had been attached to him for the entirety of those painful, slightly humiliating two days of Auror Training.

"Good afternoon, Mister Potter!" She squeaked, looking oddly excited to see him as she divested him of his coat. Huh. Perhaps being attached to an elf for two days made them love you.

Or perhaps she just wanted to see him suffer. "Hello, Missy, could you tell Malfoy that I'm here to see him?"

"Of course! Of course! Missy will do that right now! Please make yourself comfortable!" She hurried off, doilies flapping busily behind her.

Harry stood in the foyer and fidgeted. He had been in this foyer countless times in the past few weeks, but he had never, ever been able to make himself feel anything remotely close to comfortable. It could be the cold, slightly gloomy marble, or the sharp angles of everything except for the delicate blue and white vase on an end table that looked near priceless. However, it probably all had more to do with the simple knowledge that a year and a half ago, it had been Voldemort who commanded these halls.

And then the boy was back at the top of the stairs, and there was a new dimension added to him: discomfort.

"Ahem. Good evening, Potter."

"Good evening, Malfoy."

The boy cocked his head, and Harry knew he had noticed Harry's tone. There was no cheeky excitement,no anticipation, no mockery. None. Harry kept his voice flat and dull and impartial. He took out Malfoy's wand.

"Malfoy, I came to return your wand."

"Yes, Potter, I gathered."

Harry didn't tell him off for being rude. Instead, he tried to smile, and failed. "Of course you did." He tried to say it pleasantly. He sounded like he was choking. "Anyway, here you go."

He held out the wand, and Malfoy walked down that grand marble staircase, too slowly, confusion evident in his eyes. Very gently, he took the wand, not breaking eye contact as he did so.

Their hands did not touch.

Harry had another go at that smiling thing.

It became rapidly apparent that he couldn't do it.

And then he left, walking back out that beautiful, expensive front door and down the gravel drive. This time, he waved at the garden boy and shouted at the House Elves who came running out to hand him his coat.

But he still could not smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So...there will be a distinct lack of any Draco at all in this chapter. Sorry. But there will be self-examination, and Ginny (Remember how Hermione told Harry to tell Ginny hi?). So hopefully some good stuff to keep you going until Harry and Draco finally get together...**

**Cheers! (And please, please remember to review, it makes me feel really warm and fuzzy inside, but I've only gotten FOUR reviews. :( )**

DHDHDHDHDH

Harry felt...flat. Empty. He felt disappointed.

It was strange. Malfoy hadn't hexed his bits off. Malfoy hadn't set a somewhat crazed, ancient, doily-wearing Houe Elf on him. Malfoy hadn't called Ginny and Ron names, or made fun of Harry's intellect, or even sneered, not really. All in all, it had been a completely painless encounter: stiff, polite, quick, like ripping a Band-Aid off.

And Harry hated it. As he Apparated back to London, he remembered fighting with Malfoy: that feeling of electricity and adrenaline shooting through him, pooling in his stomach, making him as light and quick as when he flew. The anger that darted through him, sizzlingly bright. That...joy.

The joy at finding someone to fight with, someone so incredibly good at fighting, someone who he hated but not really, someone with that same brightness and quickness, someone as competitive as he was, someone strong enough, someone who only expected the worst and could handle it...

Wait. What? As he spun into the alley outside his flat, Harry's brain was abuzz.

It didn't make sense.

He couldn't love_ fighting_ someone as much as he did.

But he did. As he walked up the worn stairs to his tiny flat, he realized that it was true.

He _loved_ fighting with Draco Malfoy.

Shaking his head as he put the key into the lock, he decided that that last battle with Voldemort must have simply driven him around the bend.

He refused to think about how much he liked fighting with Malfoy _before_ that battle.

DHDHDHDHDH

"Ginny? I'm home!" Harry stepped into the apartment, slamming the door shut in the way he never meant to and she always told him was incredibly irritating.

And then he heard a scream, loud and long and clear. And again, but shorter this time.

It was Ginny.

_Not again_, Harry thought frantically,_ please, not again_. He raced to his bedroom, throwing the door wide open.

And there it is. The thing he so feared.

Ginny was lying on his bed.

Naked.

Twisted around a tall, dark-haired man, like she was a tar baby and he was Brer Rabbit.

"Um, Ginny?" He asked. It was quiet, but Ginny looked up immediately, flushing a bright red as she realized what he had seen.

She managed to sit up and say, "Yes?" while the man she was with dove underneath the covers and buried his face in his shoulder.

_Wow_, Harry thought, smiling a little bit, _she sure knows how to pick 'em. _To Ginny, he said, "Ginny, I love you dearly, but if you do _this_," he gestured at them, "one more time, I swear to Merlin I will kill you. And whatever man you're fucking, because, let me remind you, honey, you're in MY BED."

She tried to remain calm. She really did. "I know,Harry, and I'm sorry, honestly I am, but you're bed is closer to the front door, so Ross and I ended up here."

Harry was furious. "Firstly, Ginny, may I point out that you work with Ross, and therefore molesting him on his second day of work is probably not the best of ideas? And secondly, need I remind you that I have, on multiple occasions, in fact, suggested we switch rooms?"

Ross and Ginny spoke simultaneously. "There was no molestation going on, I swear it!" "Well, yes, but my room has the best light."

That was it. Ignoring Ross's idiocy, he bellowed."GINEVRA WEASLEY, IF YOU DO NOT GET YOUR NAKED ASS OUT OF MY BED AND GO HAVE ILLICIT TRYSTS WITH YOUR COLLEAGUES ELSEWHERE, I WILL TELL YOUR MOTHER ABOUT YOUR CONDUCT!"

She paled. "You wouldn't."

Ross glanced back and forth between the two. He was beginning to look very, very confused.

Harry ignored him. Instead, he focused on Ginny. "I absolutely would. This is the third time this month, Ginny. The third time."

"Well, you have a point, I guess."

Harry deflated. There was no point arguing with her when she was in the middle of having sex. It was like getting in between Harry and his coffee, or Ron and his chocolate, or Hermione and her paperwork. "Just-just go to your room, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Come on, Ross." She got up and took his hand and led him to her room, completely ignoring the fact that they were both naked and Harry was right there. Ross glanced back at Harry, obviously weirded out.

Harry nodded pleasantly at Ross and called after them, "And please, Gin, for Merlin's sake, use a Silencing Charm! You get _loud!_"

She nodded curtly as she closed her bedroom door, but she flashed him a quick smile.

Harry sighed. They were _really_ going to have to talk about this.

DHDHDHDHDH

Dinner had been set out for over an hour when Ginny finally ushered Ross into the Floo and out of the apartment.

"Well," she said, flopping into the chair across from Harry, and beginning to nibble on the takeaway (tonight was Thai-food-Thursday), "that was a productive evening."

Harry gave a delicate little shudder, "Ginny. We have _really_ got to talk."

"Okay. Shoot." she smiled nonchalantly and stuck an entire chicken satay in her mouth.

"Please stop referring to your sex life so constantly. Ginny, I love you, and I am glad that you confide in me, or whatever, but I am also a man with an extraordinarily active and delicate imagination, and you are assaulting it on a daily basis."

She shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Also, Ginny, stay the fuck out of my room. There are many things I do not need to see, and one of those is my roommate soiling my sheets with some poor pet boy she's seduced."

Ginny opened her mouth, looking furious, but Harry continues smartly. "I'm serious, Gin. If you don't, I will be forced to talk to Molly about this."

She closed her mouth, then opened it again, "Fine." She sounded distinctly sulky. "Anyway, now you know about my day"-she waggled her eyebrows, and Harry didn't bother telling her off- "so how was yours?"

Harry groaned and slouched back in his chair, chewing contemplatively on his drunkin noodles. "Terrible. I had to talk to Malfoy and _actually_ give him his wand back."

Ginny smiled at him sympathetically, "Ouch. What was _that_ like?"

"Incredibly awkward. Honestly, I had no idea things could be this..._pathetic_ between us."

Ginny snorted. "You two were always pathetic."

"Yeah, but this was...this was an all time low. Seriously."

"Really? That bad? How?"

"Yeah. It was like so...awkward. Things have never been awkward between us. We've hated each other impressively well, with no other feelings like embarrassment or, in his case, complete and utter shamelessness to get in the way."

"So you kept thinking of him screwing the garden boy?"

Harry looked down at his noodles. "Well, yeah."

"Okay." There was a brief moment of silence as Ginny smiled complacently and Harry grew a deep, mortified red. Then Ginny spoke again. "So, what else?"

Harry glanced up. "What d'you mean, what else? I tell you I've just been humiliated because I can't get the image of _Malfoy_ screwing a gardener out of my head, and there has to be something _else_?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why?" Harry was well aware he was whining, but he was powerless to stop himself. "Can't you ever be _satisfied_?"

Ginny drew in a deep breath, and Harry knew he'd stepped over the line with that one. Lightly, like she was trying to hide the hurt, she said. "Well, Harry, I;m going to pretend I wasn't offended by _that _little statement and go on and tell you why I think you've got more to tell me." She paused, and Harry almost apologized, but at the last moment he didn't, and then she went on talking. " It's because normally, when you tell me about whatever calamity that's happened to you that day, you go all red, but then you look cathartic and we can move on to important things, like watching _Doctor _Who. But right now, there's a distinct lack of that cathartic look. So you must have something else to tell me."

"Yeah," Harry said, letting out a puff of breath. "Hermione came by my office today, and she's making me see a therapist."

Ginny smiled and ate the last chicken satay. "Good. I was wondering when she'd finally do that. She's been meaning too all year."

Harry choked a little bit on his noodles.

**A/N: So...yeah. Please remember to review, even if you hated it!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: And now we have some Harry Therapy! Please read and review. :?) **

**(And yes, that is a man a with a large nose smiling.)**

"Please, Hermione, if you have any kindness in your heart, any whatsoever, you won't make me go." Harry perched on the edge of Hermione's desk, watching her struggle with a filing cabinet that was larger than Hagrid.

Hermione stepped away from the filing cabinet clutching a thick manilla folder. "I am a cruel, cruel women." She smiled. "Now, I'm going to file this with Ms. Hargreaves, and you're going to go to your therapist."

Harry pouted.

"Now, now, Harry, that won't help anything. She's a very nice woman, I promise. My therapist recommended her, actually." She walked out of the cubicle.

Harry followed her, half-jogging to match her pace. "Your therapist?" He asked, just a bit shocked. So that's where she disappeared to on Thursday afternoons.

"Yes, Harry, my therapist. Anyway, mine said that she was very nice and could be helpful to problems like yours."

"Like mine?"

"Problems with living out of the spotlight."

"What? I don't have any problems living out of the spotlight."

"I know you don't Harry, except for the small fact that you can't ever seem to get out of it. I mean, seriously, Harry. You were on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ when you bought a pet cat."

"Well, that's true."

"And you spent last Saturday chasing the editor of _Witch Weekly _around your flat."

"Again, true."

"So she deals with things like that."

"Oh. Is she a witch? Does she know who I am?"

"No, she's a Muggle. I told her that you're a prince from a small country. You abdicated the throne, but you still can't get out of the spotlight. Anyway, like I said, good luck!"

Harry watched her retreating back and mumbled rude things about her under his breath.

But then, slowly, slowly, he stretched and walked out of Hermione's cubicle.

It was time to see his therapist.

DHDHDHDHDH

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

"Hi."Warily, Harry sat down in the plush white chair across from the little old lady perched at the desk. He didn't break eye contact as he sank further and further into his chair. It felt as though he was being eaten by a marshmallow monster.

Sitting delicately on the little white desk was an enormous glass bowl full of jelly beans. Harry's stomach growled. He wanted a jelly bean._ So _badly.

He didn't do anything. The old lady smiled. "So, Mr. Potter. You were recommended to me by a colleague, and she happened to mention that you were operating under an alias and a heavy disguise, and didn't wish to identify yourself, under any circumstances. Why is that? I practice extreme confidentiality. You shouldn't have been worried." Her eyes gleamed.

_Bless Hermione, _Harry thought, full of relief. He had been scared he'd have to talk about whatever country he was supposed to have come from. He let out a deep breath and dragged his eyes up from the jelly bean bowl to the woman's face. "Ahem. I, er, still feel uncomfortable talking about my homeland. But I have found some, ah, respite from the media in England. I mean, the English media cares so little if some prince from a tiny country stays here. However, I still feel a little bit uncomfortable divulging my name. So, perhaps not now, yes?" Harry tried to look bewildered and foreign and aristocratic.

He wasn't entirely sure it worked, but the therapist said, very graciously, "Alright then. Where shall we start? You mentioned that you had found some respite here in England. What do you mean by that?"

Harry blanched. What did he say? What did he say? He cleared his throat, and began. "I've , er, made some good friends, among my colleagues, as well as, um, outside work. And I have a lovely roommate. She's really great."

The therapist removed her glasses. "You have a _woman_ as a roommate? Aren't you worried about potentially harmful, ah,_ romantic situations_? If you haven't found happiness in yourself, you shouldn't try to look for happiness in others, at least not yet."

Harry smiled weakly. "Um, that's, that's definitely not a problem. Because, see, the thing is, we were dating, but we broke up."

"Oh. So there is no bitterness? No resentment, no unfinished issues you have yet to work out?"

"No, not at all. We've figured out how to be really great friends, I think."

"That's alright, I suppose, if a tiny bit...unusual. But may I inquire as to why you broke up? Just to figure out any past issues, things like that."

Mentally, Harry groaned. They couldn't have already gotten to _that_, could they? He had been banking on having another few sessions, at least. Nervously, slowly, he spoke. " Yeah. Okay. We broke up because I'm, um, I'm gay."

The therapist looked up slowly. "Oh. Alright, then."

"Yeah..."

"That's fine, you know."

"I know."

"Are you out?"

Harry hated that question. Shortly, he answered, "Yes. My friends and roommate, et cetera, et cetera- they all know. I haven't taken a bullhorn and started announcing it to the world as of yet, but yes, effectively, I am out."

"Alright. Are you currently in a relationship?"

Another question Harry hated. "Nope."

"Do you want to be?"

That made Harry pause, and when he began, it was slowly and carefully. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, mostly, I'm happy with my life as it is- great friends, a social life whenever I want one, a job I love, but I guess I'd like something, you know, _more_."

"Most people do." the woman smiled at him over the top of her glasses, "All in all, I should say you're doing pretty well, but if you want to talk about anything more, I'm here." Politely, she handed him a card.

Harry took it without looking at it. The truth was burning in him, a truth he hadn't even thought to himself yet, but man, he wanted to tell her. To tell anybody, really.

Instead, he yawned and said goodbye, before trudging out of her strangely white office and back to his apartment.

**A/N: Yes, I know it's a bit short, but please REVIEW. You can be mean, I don't mind. Just REVIEW. Therapist shaped lollipops to whoever reviews. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm actually kind of scared about how long this story is going to be...it keeps expanding and unfolding in my brain. It's like Plot Bunny Central in here, I swear. I'm even planning some character development for * gasp * Ginny. Go figure. Anyway, this will have actual Draconess! EXCITEMENT!**

**As always, please (please please please) read and review.**

DHDHDHDHDH

There were several reasons Harry liked having Ginny work at St. Mungo's.

It kept her busy. It made her feel philanthropic and good as a human being. It supplied her with an endless stream of trainees to shag. It taught her some really interesting new curses to use on Ron. It perfected all of her healing charms, which definitely came in handy when rabid fangirls attacked him.

Or, come to think of it, that time when the Editor-In-Chief of the _Daily Prophet_ jumped him that one time.

But the hands down best thing about having a friend working at St. Mungo's was the employee discount at the ice cream across the road. _Yeah_, Harry thought blissfully, as he licked his coffee toffee ice cream, _the discount rocks._

And hen he felt a light tap on his shoulder. "Ahem, excuse me, but are you Harry Potter?"

Harry felt something in his stomach drop. _Oh no. Not this again. _He made a face at Ginny, who made a face back at him, and he turned around. A tiny old lady, about four feet tall, stood in front of her, pulling two little children with her. Taking a deep breath, he answered her question. "Yes, I'm Harry Potter."

"Oh, excellent! I'm so sorry for interrupting your _date._" She paused to gesture at Ginny and make a knowing face that should _really_ not appear on a person of her age. "It's just, my two little grandchildren here, I'd just love for them to have a photo of them _with you_. Such history and all."

Harry nodded wearily, girding himself for the two children (with chocolate ice cream smeared all over them; I mean, how did they actually get ice cream _there_?) to climb all over him, when a light bulb went on over his head. He said very loudly, "Um, I have to go to the bathroom. But you can, um, have a photo with my lovely date, who incidentally fought very hard in the War and was in Dumbledore's Army with me. Her name is Ginny Weasley, and I know you'll just love her." He sped off, pausing only to give Ginny a glare that said very clearly, _If you do not do this for me, I will kill you. You know what to do. _

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, but she nodded all the same, before turning to the children and clapping her hands and squealing in a way that was vaguely terrifying.

Harry smiled. Ginny was such a good friend.

DHDHDHDHDH

Harry hurtled into the bathroom, glancing around wildly, looking for a convenient window to sneak out of.

And then a quiet, polite voice, carrying just a trace of the familiar drawl, spoke to him. "Potter?"

_Oh shit_, Harry thought. _This is_ so _not a good time_. "What, Malfoy?" It came out sharper than he intended, and as he turned around to face the boy, he felt almost apologetic.

Malfoy didn't seem bothered by it. Instead, he sounded mildly amused. "Oh, nothing, Potter. I was just curious as to why a wizard of your caliber and social esteem would be reduced to trying to escape out a bathroom window."

Harry stared at him. Malfoy was _smiling_ at him. He shook his head a little bit, as if trying to dislodge that particular thought. Catching his breath, he explained. "Little old granny. Wanted a photo with me. And her grandchildren."

Lightly, mockingly, Malfoy answered. "What, the great Harry Potter can't be bothered the feelings of little old ladies and small children?"

Harry pouted unconsciously, not realizing he had done so until a small twinge passed over Malfoy's face. Quickly, he straightened his features into something resembling normalcy. "It was the third time today. And there were two kids. With chocolate ice cream _all over them_."

"So you can face the Dark Lord, but not two chocolatey children?"

Harry shrugged. "Basically. I don't mind kids, not really, but the fankids are kinda creepy. Or they really don't want to be there, and they're really sullen and still and silent as stone."

Malfoy looked completely bemused."Merlin's balls, how did_ you_ defeat the most evil wizard of our age? Never mind, don't answer that, I'm already late, and my probation officer gets pissed if she's kept waiting."

It was a knee-jerk reflex. He asked, "Your probation officer?" And it's not until another strange twinge passes over Malfoy's face that Harry realizes that he's gone and put his foot in his mouth again.

Malfoy shook his head in the same way Harry did, and replied. "Yeah, my probation officer. She's why I'm here, y'know? I have to see her Mondays and Fridays to make sue I'm not actually a Dark Lord wannabe."

Harry tried to nod understandingly. "Right. Yeah."

Malfoy ignores Harry's discomfort. "So if you'll excuse me, I have to slide out of that window over there."

"Really? Me too!" Malfoy and Harry shook their heads simultaneously at Harry's idiocy. Harry tried to redeem himself. "Right, so, why are you sneaking out of the window?"

"Some stupid couple began talking very loudly about my politics and my treachery and my general idiocy. Not wholly uncalled for, I guess." Malfoy shrugged elegantly. "Then they started in on my mother, and I felt it'd be best to sneak out before I did something that would land me in Azkaban."

Harry smiled and actually laughed. That was odd. "So. Do you think we could, y'know, help each other out. 'Cause that window isn't too big and it's kinda high up."

Malfoy looked at him funny again, but he simply said, "Okay, I guess."

"Excellent. Can you give me a boost? Then I'll pull you through."

"I should go through first!"

"What, so you can abandon me and leave me stuck in this bathroom until the little old lady comes and finds me?"

That stupid twinge passed over Malfoy's face again, and Harry wished he'd stop doing that. "That's the thing, Potter. It all comes down to whether or not you trust me." Harry rolled his eyes, but he nodded. Malfoy gave him a cheeky grin. "Besides, I'm lighter."

"You're an asshole, is what you are," Harry mumbled.

"I get that a lot," Malfoy observed dryly, "More so now that I no longer have a father who could rearrange your face if messed with."

"Did you like it? I mean, having your dad as your dad?" Harry asked suddenly, as he walked over to the window and bent down to make a little step with his hands.

Malfoy stepped on to his head, and paused there, one foot on Harry's hands, the other dangling in midair. Harry felt very conscious of how close he and Malfoy were and how light he actually was. Slowly, Malfoy said, "I guess. I dunno, really, though. I've never had anyone else for a father, so I can't compare experiences, can I? But mostly, it was okay. I mean, he put too much pressure on me and tried to make me exactly like him, but he was proud of me even when I failed and he took care of me whenever he could. What happened with Voldemort—mostly, that wasn't really his fault. I mean, he could be a right stupid bastard sometimes, and he deserves the time in Azkaban, he really does, but he was an okay dad."

Very intelligently, Harry said, "Huh." And then he hauled Malfoy up through the window, grunting ever so slightly as he did so.

Malfoy didn't make fun of him for that. Instead, he briskly turned around and helped Harry squeeze through the tiny window.

They stayed in the tiny alley the window led to for a few minutes, not really noticing the smell of garbage and the buzz of people passing by. Neither looked directly at each other. But neither could look away. They couldn't help it, and for a few moments, there was peace and awkwardness and these strange, soft lingering glances that glanced away very quickly whenever they caught the other looking. And then Malfoy said softly, no arrogance left at all in his voice, "Well, see you around, Potter. My parole officer will be furious by now."

Harry looked up and forced himself to meet Malfoy's eye. "Right. See you later, Malfoy."

Malfoy gave him a half-smile, and Harry found that all of a sudden, he couldn't breathe.

Slowly, not quite looking away, Malfoy walked towards the ancient clothing factory that still housed St. Mungo's. Harry watched him go, not quite knowing what he was doing.

He stood there for a few minutes, silent, wondering what exactly had just happened,

And then he heard a scream behind him.

He whirled around,and there was Ginny, with an ice cream cone on her head, face streaked with chocolate ice cream. "Harry Potter," she roared, "you are in SO MUCH TROUBLE!"

Harry gulped, turned around again,and began to run.

**A/N: So yeah, please review and I'll update soon. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey, sorry it's been so long between chapters. I've been insanely busy with Real Life, and then was being a bitch and not letting me update. So I had to deal with that. Also, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I felt like I should keep the story flowing. And, before I forget, thanks so much for all the Reviews, Story Alerts and Favorites. You make me a happy garden gnome.**

DHDHDHDHDH

His hands were shaking as he knocked on the white door.

No one answered for a moment, and Harry was just stepping off the stoop when a calm voice spoke. "Mr. Potter? Do come in."

"Right. Ah, um, yeah." Feeling extraordinarily ineloquent, Harry followed the little old lady inside. He supposed he'd have to learn her name now that he was actually going to see her on a regular basis. But he really didn't feel like it. He did feel like snatching a handful of jelly beans from her desk, though, and this time, he did.

She smiled at him and began consulting the legal pad on her desk. "So, Mr. Potter, you told me earlier that you had an important event to share with me. Shall we begin?"

"Yeah. So, ah, you see..." Harry stopped. How did he make everything Muggle prince appropriate.

Slowly, he began again. "So, um, I was out shopping when this woman...she recognized me and wanted a photo of me with her grand kids. And I...I couldn't deal with that, I guess. It's been happening more frequently lately, and it bugs me more than I'd like to admit."

"Is that all?" The lady was smiling now, already planning out what to tell him.

Harry scowled. "No, actually. So, I saw her, and I couldn't handle it, and so I sped off to the bathroom to sneak out the window." She nodded and frowned. Harry suddenly realized that perhaps sneaking out of a window to avoid a little old lady was not indicative of good mental health. Hurriedly, he continued. "So yeah, there I was in the bathroom, and I saw this guy."

"A guy?" Interest was flashing in her eyes, and Harry felt quite certain she was awaiting smut.

"Right. This guy. But he wasn't just any guy. He was a bloke I went to school with, back in my, ah, homeland. Except it was more than that, really. Because back at school, we hated each other. And I was kind of... I was sort of _obsessed_ with him. But it was all just hate, plain and simple. And then I saw him after I left the country, a few times, actually, but it was still all mutual hate and fighting. And that was okay. I understood that. Except...then I began to think that maybe I liked fighting with him a bit too much, and I really was obsessed with him, and it was more than, you know, mutual loathing. At least, for me. And then I saw him in the bathroom."

"And what?"

"And we had an actual conversation. And we helped each other out the window. And it was... nice."

"Huh." she didn't ask anything else for a minute. Then she cleared her throat, and very briskly said, "Mr. Potter, do you want to see this man again?"

That made Harry pause. But it was true when he answered, "Yeah. I do."

"Ah. And if you did see him again, in what capacity would you like it to be?"

Again with the pause. "Ahm. Ahm. Er. Hem."

"You don't have to think about this right now."

Harry let out a frustrated breath. "But I do. I do. I want to know, and I wanna do something about it, and you're supposed to help me."

"Ah. Very goal-oriented, I see."

"Uh, yeah." Harry felt like it was obvious. Everyone wanted that, didn't they? They wanted a straight out problem to solve, and a way to solve it, and then they'd go out and _do_ it. That was the way people _worked_. Right?

"Well, let's start by setting you a goal."

"Alright. So, what is it?"

"How about you think about how you want to see this man again? We can discuss it at our next session."

They had a next session? He had to wait until their next session to figure this out? "Uh, okay."

He stood up, and allowed the woman to shepherd him out of the little white office.

He was only sure of one thing. He was going to go crazy before his "next session."

DHDHDHDHDH

Harry slumped over a table at the Leaky Cauldron. He had nothing to do and nowhere to do. He was never to good with his days off, but this was an all time low. He didn't want to go back to the flat and watch Ginny get ready to go out with Ross (he had lasted over two days, which was an impressive feat for Ginny's boyfriends).

He didn't want to go over to Ron and Hermione's flat and watch them make eyes at each other while Ron cooked and Hermione went through massive stacks of paperwork.

He didn't feel like heading over to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and watch George look just a little bit too sad for a Weasley twin.

But he really didn't feel like sitting at his lonely table in a dark corner of the restaurant any more.

As quietly and inconspicuously as he could, he rose from his table and walked outside into Muggle London. It took him a few minutes, but at last he found a suitable nightclub. Music and light leaked out onto the sidewalk, and a bouncer who looked not unlike Kingsley was glowering at the passersby, most of whom were quaking under his gaze. Harry did not approach him. Harry did not try to enter the club, even though he could really have used a drink right about then.

Instead, he walked into the small alley next to it, and punched the wall as hard as he could.

He didn't really feel the pain as he turned and Apparated back to his flat.

He heard Ginny call to him as he entered the apartment, buthe ignored her and stalked into his room, where he balled up on his side. He counted the ceiling tiles. He had gotten through fifty three tiles when Ginny came in. She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his back like a mother, cooing soft comforting words at him. Harry wasn't really paying attention (fifty-six, fifty-seven...) until she said, "Harry, this is really boring. Can't you just tell me what's wrong so I can stop acting like my mom and go back to watching Jack Harkness cling to the outside of the TARDIS?"

"Unhhhhh..."

"Harry, I hate to break it to you, but I don't speak Troll."

Her words reminded Harry forcefully of Malfoy, and he groaned again. "Ginny...it's just..."

"Just what? Harry, tell me." She began to change the patterns with which she rubbed his back."

Harry didn't answer her question. Instead, he pulled away from her, sitting up and looking at her wearily. "Ginny, what are you doing to my back?"

"I was tracing the words "Harry is a troll for not explaining to Ginny, who is made of awesome." I was kinda hoping it would get subconsciously ingrained into you."

"Ginny, what are the chances of you leaving until I explain all the sordid details of my personal life to you?"

She swung her long red hair over her shoulder and shrugged before batting her eyelashes prettily. "Slim to none. Also, may I remind you, that you have no personal life, at least, not with me you don't."

"Okay. So...fuck it all. I think I like Malfoy. And it's not just because I saw him screwing the garden boy or anything. It's...like, when we fight, it's _hot_. And, God, he's cute when he sneers. And he's so light. And remember when I saw him when we got ice cream? I helped him out the window and he was so light and he was so _close _to me..." Harry, realizing he was gushing, promptly shut up

"Huh." Ginny stroked his back again absently. He strokes were long and even. "Well, my ickle Harrykins, why don't you just go and tell him you fancy the pants off of him, and ask him to shag?"

Harry laughed. "Is that how you get your pet boys?"

"Yep." She said it matter-of-factly, and Harry smiled at the twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, there must be something special about you, then, because I am absolutely positive that Malfoy would get his house elves to throw me out of the Manor if I asked him to shag. And then he'd get his albino peacocks to peck at me. Until I was dead."

Harry looked at Ginny so somberly she laughed. He kept looking at her miserably. She stopped and cleared her throat. "Umm. Harry, Malfoy can be a right shitbag at the best of times, but I'm fairly certain even he wouldn't have a group of freaky peacocks peck you to death. That seems a bit harsh."

"I know. But I wouldn't put it past him. He hates me. I do, too. I just...i really _like_ hating him." Harry let his head fall on to Ginny's lap.

He didn't see the way he eyes clouded over. "Huh."

**A/N: Please, please review. I do a happy dance and Harry thinks a wistful thought about Draco every time I get one.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry this isn't that long and that I haven't updated in a while! But we have some Harry/Draco interaction, and a bit of stuff from Draco and Ginny's points of view, so please don't hate me and PLEASE PLEASE review!**

DHDHDHDHDH

There were times when Draco really hated Pansy.

She was a lovely girl, she really was, and it was amazing that she hadn't dropped him the second he was put under house arrest, but sometimes she just made him want to _scream_.

Especially right that second. He knew she meant well, but was it absolutely necessary to tell him all the details of a soiree he hadn't gone to? Or all about people he hadn't seen for months and wouldn't see again for another two years? Or the clothing of women he didn't have a hope in hell with?

Honestly.

He called for another pot of tea (the third one that evening) and ground his teeth (the seventeenth time that hour). He tried to focus back on Pansy.

She was prattling away obliviously, as usual. "Anyway, Draco, like I told Marcia, I didn't matter what she wore, with a face like that, no one would go near her with a ten foot broom."

Draco tried to remember who Pansy was going on about. After a moment, he decided it was hopeless and began to nod appreciatively and eat another tea sandwich.

For some reason, Pansy chortled. "Honestly, Draco, living by yourself is making you rather _strange_." She lengthened the word into two syllables, as if Draco couldn't understand what she meant otherwise. "Do stop nodding like that, there's a good boy. It makes you look a little bit _odd_." 

She did the two syllable thing again, and Draco very promptly stopped nodding. He felt about five years old as he munched his sandwich. He wondered vaguely to himself why he didn't kick her out. It would be so very satisfying, and he really did not need to know what color Astoria Greengrass's dress was. She was his _former _fiancee, after all, and he didn't care about her anymore.

But then Pansy's house elf, Ginger, came to fetch her for a pressing engagement, Draco remembered why he never, ever kicked Pansy out.

The silence was infinitely worse.

DHDHDHDHDH

There were times when Harry really hated Hermione.

He knew she meant the best, and she was usually right, not to mention the fact that he trusted her more than anyone else, except possibly Ron.

But there were moments when she made him feel more than a little bit homicidal.

For example, right that moment, as she pushed him up the grand steps and knocked on the grand front door for him. She smiled briefly at him and shouted, "Harry, you need to talk to him about this! You'll thank me one day!" before Apparating neatly, leaving Harry alone.

No matter what Hermione said, he was quite certain he wouldn't be _thanking_ her in the near future.

Just as he was backing away, hoping he could Disapparrate and lie to Hermione about it later, he door was yanked open by a very disgruntled looking house elf.

Harry jerked backward. Her hadn't known house elves _could _be disgruntled. Huh.

Meanwhile, the house elf was giving him a dirty look and mumbling to herself in a squeaky, distinctly irritable voice, " Timsey just joined Master's house, and all of a sudden _Missy_ is bossing her around without _authorization of any kind_, yes she is, and Timsey is not liking is one little bit, no she isn't. And now Timsey is on _door duty_, and she is _stuck_ with some pathetic half-wit who won't even move off the threshold, yes Timsey is." She began to poke Harry with a long, bony finger, and Harry promptly came in. He decided she was worse than Kreacher as he handed her his coat, which she stepped on before hanging up.

Harry made the decision not to say anything, a decision seconded when Timsey scurried off (to fetch Malfoy, dear God, what would Harry do?), still muttering, and looking mildly terrifying.

Shortly afterward, Malfoy appeared at the top of the stairs, looking a little less happy and a little more worn from the last time Harry had seen him. "Well, Potter, how are you here to torture me today?"

"Umm. Good evening, Malfoy."

"Oh, lovely, we're back to this, aren't we?" Malfoy sounded a little bit hysterical, but Harry decided to ignore it and plunge on.

"Well, you see, Malfoy, I was hoping we could, you know, have a chat." He internally cursed himself for his word choice. He sounded so _stupid_.

"Have a chat? Potter, I hate to break it to you, but we have never chatted, we are not chatting now, and we will never chat in the future. For two reasons: the first being that we hate each other and the second being that you are a tosser."

"Oh, that's absolutely lovely, isn't it? I come here bearing the olive branch of forgiveness or whatever, and all you can do is call me a tosser? God, I should have known you'd just be a twat."

"Two more things, Potter: one, olive branch of _peace,_ you imbecile, and two, I'm a twat? Me, the poor innocent under house arrest. And don't say I'm not innocent, Potter, you vouched for me and my innocence in front of the entire fucking Wizengamot. But of course, being closely related to trolls means that hypocrisy and idiocy practically run in your veins."

"Shut up about my family." Harry growled, a vein throbbing in his temple, "And, for Merlin's sake, Malfoy, what the fuck is wrong with you? Last time we met we actually got on pretty well, in case you've forgotten!"

"Well, yes, but last time I assumed you'd leave me the fuck alone, that it was a one time thing, that I'd never have to look into your stupid face ever again, Potter! Honestly, is that too much to ask for?" The hysterical edge to his voice was more prominent, and Harry, who had been watching Malfoy with a broad smile on his face, had the sudden and uncomfortable urge to comfort him.

"Okay, Malfoy. Jesus, just...goodnight, okay? Goodnight, Malfoy." Harry swung around and walked out the door, not bothering to fetch his coat. A hint of residual smile remained on his face as he Apparated home. He thought vaguely to himself that it was starting all over again.

Hermione was going to kill him.

DHDHDHDHDH

There were times when Ginny really hated Harry.

Especially, especially, when he came home smiling in the way Ginny hadn't seen since sixth year and swung off to bed without plopping down with her and eating Pad Thai or commenting on the general shittiness of _Black Butler_ and why she shouldn't bother with it (all while surreptitiously checking Sebastien out).

Or when Ginny asked what was up and all she got was another achingly familiar smile and the whispered, irritatingly dreamy word, "Malfoy."

It was times like those that made her get up and go to the pub on the corner with the very firm idea of getting as smashed as physically possible without actually dying.

**A/N: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good...and I _will_ post again in the next week. Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Alright! SO. This is the second to last chapter, and it's also the longest. So be HAPPY. And please, please, please REVIEW. * begs shamelessly ***

Chapter Eight

Ginny knew she could hold her liquor really well.

Of course she could, what with growing up with six brothers. It was the same reason she could hot wire a Ford Anglia, roll a joint, and make her own fireworks. Her brothers had called letting her know their secrets collateral damage- something that would hurt their mission but could not be helped. At least, until she was seven, when she swiped her parents' wands, stolen all of the bubble bath in St. Ottery-Catchpole, and created a bubble fountain in their backyard.

Then she was a valued member of the team.

But. Back to the point. Ginny was finding it very hard to focus, though. It probably had something to do with six shots of Van Gogh Vodka and four Bacardi Breezers she had recently imbibed. Nah, tHat couldn't be it. She shook her head determinedly and with some satisfaction, though the satisfaction abated slightly when the world kept on spinning after she stopped moving.

Dizzily, she slumped against the bar. The bar top felt nice against her too-hot face. Perfectly sensibly, she began to rub her face up and down against it, at least until a snide voice behind her said primly, if some what tipsily, "Really, Weasley. It's bad enough that you're a _ginger_, but now you're having a mad love affair with the bar top? Have you no shame?"

Ginny would recognize that voice anywhere, but she didn't move away from the bar top. It felt so _nice_. Drowsily, she muttered into the cool counter, "Go _away_, Parkinson." she would have called Parkinson a silly slut who couldn't get over the Ferret when he was so _obviously_ a poof, too, but she had the vaguely ominous feeling she would slur more than she should if she spoke again. So she kept the S's inside.

But Pansy did not go away. Instead, she toppled gaily onto the bar stool beside Ginny and spoke again. "Well, Ginger, is that really all you've got to say? I mean, you used to be better than that. At _everything_." Pansy leered, and even through Ginny's drunken haze, she felt waves of mortification wash over her.

"That was once!" she protested as loudly as she could. She didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. "And besides, we were both absolutely smashed!"

"Oh, so us being drunk was an excuse?" Pansy sounded more interested and smirky than outraged, and Ginny shrugged and nodded. "Well," Pansy said in such an innocent tone that Ginny was immediately suspicious, "Well, you see, we're drunk off our asses _now_."

There was no doubt about what she meant, and Ginny was furious. "NO! NO! Merlin's balls, what's _wrong_ with you?"Ginny was so angry that she didn't even notice that she had been right to keep the S's inside. She was about to plow on, but Pansy interrupted her.

"Well, it's not like either of us have anything better to do!" Pansy burst out angrily. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be plopped in a dirty pub on a Saturday night, drinking ourselves into a stupor all by our lonely old selves!"

Ginny was about to retort when the bartender came over and quietly, without any fuss at all and very politely kicked them out. "I'm sorry,dears,"she said cheerily, "but you to are being rather-" she paused for a moment, then continued, "rather loud. And I'm afraid you just can't stay. Besides, I think you've both had quite enough to drink." She pushed them out the door firmly, and Pansy and Ginny stood rather unsteadily in the middle of the street, leaning together unconsciously for support.

Ginny thought vaguely to the tipsy Floo call she had made to Ross somewhat earlier that evening, and the collection of gay porn hidden rather obviously under Harry's bed as Pansy thought of Draco's inability to leave the house and his distinct lack of wanting to.

Both of them decided simultaneously that they really didn't have anything better to do.

"So," Pansy said, in her most casual tone, "my apartment or yours?"

Ginny thought once more to Harry and his stupid dreamy look. "Yours."

DHDHDHDH

There was a tapping at Harry's window.

Again. And again. And again and again and again.

And then it wasn't just a tap, it was a screech and a repeated thumping, as though a large flying object were hurling itself against the glass.

Harry woke with a start, and promptly realized that he no longer lived in a cupboard and the thumping was not Dudley running up and down the stairs to annoy Harry. He slumped out of bed, grumbling to himself as he stumbled across the room to the window. A huge grey owl was repeatedly slamming itself against the glass, looking worriedly determined to break it into shards.

Harry hastily opened the window, and the owl hurtled through it, slamming loudly against the wall opposite. It was perfectly all right, however, and promptly sat back up and gave a dignified sort of hoot. Harry didn't recognize it, and he wondered briefly who would be sending him an owl at this time of the night. He very cautiously took the letter from the owl (he was right to be cautious- the owl looked like it could, and would, bite Harry's fingers off at the slightest provocation).He unrolled it slowly and noticed that it was written on very fine purple notepaper which smelled of- Harry sniffed it- lavender and those expensive roses Ginny liked to get on Valentine's Day. It read:

_Scarhead-_

_The Weasellette is currently drunk off her head and snogging Pansy. This is revolting to witness, and they keep trying to undress each other, so I would appreciate it very much if you could come to Pansy's flat at 17 Francis Street in Islington. Her apartment is number 1730._

_Honestly, Potter, don't just stand there and look at this like an idiot. Wake up and smell the notepaper! Help me prevent a disastrous tryst that we will all regret in the morning! Move! NOW!_

_Draco Malfoy_

At this last sentence, Harry started. He had fallen into a slight trance, staring at the note.

Now he rushed, stuffing his feet into shoes (he would later discover that he had pulled on one trainer and one sandal), and racing out the door, noticing for the first time that evening the very conspicuous absence of Ginny on the couch, where she should have been, making fun of the bad late night TV and eating popcorn.

As Harry ran down the seemingly endless flights of stairs, his mind wandered back to the note. How had Draco- Malfoy, he corrected himself hastily- known what to write at the bottom of the letter? Did he know Harry that well?

How well did the both of them really know each other?

He thought of the way he had baited Malfoy over his wand- he had known exactly what to say to piss Malfoy. He wondered how far that extended.

Ten minutes later he was in front of 17 Francis Street, Islington, a large, ridiculously grand building, still wondering and not at all satisfied with what his brain was turning up with.

He flashed a charming smile at the doorman, hoping for the best, and to his surprise, the doorman said, "Go right up, Mr. Potter. Anything for you."

For once absolutely gratified at his fame, Harry hurried up to the lift, realizing immediately that it must be a wizarding building.

It was only as he approached Pansy's door that nerves began to clench painfully in his stomach. At the same time, though, there was a delicious undercurrent of something thrilling that Harry couldn't quite identify running all through him. He wondered what sort of shape Ginny was in.

The door was pulled open before he was halfway down the hall, and Malfoy stuck his head out and hissed, "Potter, you're fucking late. Get in here."

Harry hurried into the dimly lit apartment, noticing absolutely no sign of either Ginny or Pansy, only one extremely angry Draco Malfoy, who was muttering under his breath wildly.

Harry politely cleared his throat, realized he sounded exactly like Dolores Umbridge, shut his mouth, then tried again. "Um, Malfoy? Where exactly are Ginny and Pansy? And how did you get here?"

Draco forced a smile that looked more like a slightly mad grimace. "Well, Scarhead, they fell asleep about four minutes ago somewhere over that way." He gestured vaguely over to the sofa. "As to how I got here, I was roused from my bed around one and informed via Floo by a very drunk and very angry Pansy that I was a pathetic faggy shut-in and she could do so much better. At which point, the Ginger Shrew came through the Floo, giggling like mad and trying to undress poor Pansy. Then again, Pansy also tried to undress Ginger, so I can't say it was non consensual." He sighed, like he was genuinely disappointed. Harry resisted the temptation to punch him.

Instead, he said shortly, "Don't call her that."

"I have no idea why not, but fine." Draco faux-pouted, "Anyway, my little troll, I checked with my parole officer"- he winced here and Harry's heart softened,even though he was being called a troll- "and she let me come over and pull them apart. I wrote that to you and sent it with FrouFrou. And then they went unconscious."

"Thanks, my little prick- and I do mean that." Harry smiled beatifically.

"Bitch. Poorly endowed bitch."

"Wanker."

"Twat."

"Cunt."

"Fucking asshole."

"You are simply and absolute _prat_. And, God, it's impressive that someone can be exactly the same they were as a bratty eleven year old. I mean, even _Dudley _changed for the better, and he's a pudgy, idiotic Muggle. Honestly, Malfoy, have some _pride_." Harry smirked, and immediately realizede why Malfoy smirked all the time. Smirking was_ fun_.

Malfoy scowled. "You are a- a- an absolute wanker."

"You already said that." Harry kept right on smirking.

"Fine. Butthead."

"Butthead? Butthead? I haven't been called a butthead since about fourth grade!" Harry sounded delighted.

"Shut up."

"I'll shut up when you shut up!"

"I've already shut up!"

"This is pointless."

"This is absolutely pointless. But you're still a git."

"Imbecile."

"Oh, do shut up."

And Harry, boiling over with that same electricity that Malfoy always gave him, leaned in and kissed Draco Malfoy.

Because even if he was a git, he was a _gorgeous_ git. And Harry had been obsessed with im for the last three years for a reason.

**A/N: Please REVIEW. I love it when you review. I love it love it love it. And it makes the next chapter some better.**


	9. Chapter 9

In later years, Draco will end up saying that it was Harry's fault; that Harry was a rubbish kisser. In years to come, Draco will end up chuckling about it and lightly insulting Harry.

In later years, Harry will end up calling Draco a tosser and wondering why he didn't move on. Harry will say that _Draco_ was the rubbish kisser, and Harry never gave a bad kiss in his life, thank you very much.

But the truth was that neither of them knew what they were doing in that first kiss. Harry misjudged the distance and their teeth collided and Draco turned his head so their noses bumped and both their lips felt like jelly and wobbled awkwardly between them and there was no hint of tongues whatsoever because both of them were absolutely terrified.

But.

Draco didn't mind the clink of teeth.

And Harry liked the feel of Draco's nose against his.

And the tongue thing could be easily rectified.

So none of that was the problem. Not really, anyway.

The problem was the look in Draco's eyes as they pulled apart: absolute and total confusion and more than a little bit of worry.

And Harry was quite certain he'd fucked things up. Absolutely. He couldn't even have that nice uncomplicated hatred anymore, not after that pathetic excuse of a snog.

"You kissed me." Draco whispered it so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear. "You kissed me, Potter."

It wasn't an accusation, not yet, at least. But it scared Harry anyway. Draco went on, his voice gaining in strength as he bore down on Harry. "Potter, you great fucking prat, you call me a git, a prat, a wanker. You think I'm a pathetic Slytherin ferret. A coward. Arrogant. Blind. And as if all of that was not enough, Potter, you_ kiss_ me. You fucking kissed me, Potter. What, is it revenge for not thanking you adequately for saving my life, Potter? Is it revenge for some unknowable crime I committed years ago? Was it because I was a Death Eater? What the fuck, Potter? _Why did you kiss me?_"

"Er..." Harry had never really put much value into eloquence. He understood it was powerful. But it hadn't seemed a particularly important skill for him to acquire when he could make people listen by simply opening his mouth (or completely ignore him and deny his sanity, but he was fairly certain even the most eloquent speeches wouldn't have helped him in those situations). Right at that moment, though, he'd trade all of his possessions to be able to say something. Draco was looking more and more furious, and if Harry has learned one thing in his years at Hogwarts, it was not to make Draco Malfoy angry with you (or that what Hermione didn't know, Hermione couldn't yell at you about, but that wasn't the point). Making Draco angry with you generally lead to a death sentence or at the very least, an afternoon spent vomiting slugs. And right at that particular moment, Malfoy looked like he was nearer to the death sentence end of the scale. "Well?" he asked in a tone that would have befitted Snape, "Why did you kiss me, Potter? Please elaborate on your fucked up, cruel, ridiculous mind games."

Harry thought vaguely that that might have been going too far, but he didn't say that. He wasn't actually sure what Malfoy was going off about, either, but, once again, he kept his mouth shut, searching for the words that would provide some measure of escape. Nothing came. Eventually, he just went with the truth. "Er, because I, you know, _like_ you."

Malfoy just stood there, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly skeptical."You like me, Potter? You _like_ me? What are you, a thirteen year old girl?"

"Nope. I'm an eighteen year old wizard, thank you very much."

"You know what I mean, Potter." Malfoy was very distinctly snarling now, and Harry would be a massive liar if he said he didn't love it. "But. You hate me solidly for almost nine years now, and I hate you back. It's lovely and uncomplicated and stems from a single, cliched source of bitterness and manages to grow quite impressively over the years. I become a Death Eater, you become an Auror, I become a washed up ex-Death Eater. You win, life is good for you, the sun is shining down. Are you following me, Potter?" Harry nodded, even though he wasn't entirely sure were Malfoy was going with this. Malfoy smiled painfully and continued. "You have a beautiful (if painfully ginger) girlfriend, you're obsessed with _Doctor Who_- don't ask how I know, Potter, I just do- and life is good. For me, on the other hand, life is several different kinds of shit and pain. I'm under house arrest and even when I'm allowed out in public, people have an annoying habit of loudly badmouthing me while I'm in earshot. I'm being pursued by a lovely girl who I cannot and will not have sex with, for several reasons, but mostly because I'm gay and I also don't feel the need to be her secret boyfriend while she gets married and has an actual life. And then there are my parents. My parents whom you so _generously_ testified for. My mother gets out in a few months, and I do actually thank you for that. She's a lovely lady, most of the time anyway. My father, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. Honestly, Potter, my life is going to be hard enough without him breathing down my neck, not to mention the inevitable damage he'll do to my already perilous reputation. Oh, and the minute he's out of Azkaban, I'm going to have to _marry_, and probably some pathetic middle class girl with no reputation and no brain, just because I need to get married or these rumors of me being a faggot- I'm sorry, a _confirmed bachelor_- will never be quelled. And yet you couldn't leave me alone in my pathetic existence, could you, Potter? No, you had to come here and fucking torment me for weeks and not give me my wand back, and do you have any idea what it was like to be without my wand for so long? But I digress. You came here and tormented me, every day for weeks, and the worst bit was that _I didn't actually mind_. Yeah, you heard that right. I didn't mind. I loved it almost. You cared, Potter, and for fuck's sake-" he broke off here, looking miserable and furious and humiliated, but he managed to continue. "You cared, and I cared that you cared and it was stupid, okay? And so everything was just fucked up because you still tortured me _every single day_ and so you didn't actually give a shit, any more than when we were at Hogwarts. And now you kiss me, and what the fuck was that? Did you figure it out and decide to play one final joke?" Malfoy sighed and his shoulders shuddered and he looked nearly hysterical.

And suddenly, everything clicked in Harry's brain, in that epiphany he sometimes had, the same way he knew where the final Horcrux was or that Malfoy had been up to something in sixth year.

"Malfoy, you _like _me," he managed to whisper. "You've _always _liked me."

Malfoy sighed again and looked Harry straight in the eye. "Yes, Potter, well done," he said wearily,"You know, it'd be more convincing if you actually sounded surprised. As is, I can't help but believe that you still rather hate me, for whatever reason. Now can you take the Weaselette and get out of here? You are an irritating asshole, and anyway, I do believe she is choking on her own snot."

Harry looked around, momentarily surprised. In everything that had happened, he had forgotten that he had come here to rescue Ginny in the first place. Sure enough, she was making a hideous bubbling, snorting sound that was indeed, upon closer examination, her choking on her own snot. Sighing heavily, he disentangled her from Pansy and dragged her out of the apartment, where he proceeded to Apparate home.

He spent the rest of the evening alternately clearing an unconscious Ginny's nostrils and feeling sorry for himself.

DHDHDHDH

**A/N: I actually have NO FUCKING IDEA where that came from. Seriously, I'm buggered if I know. I meant to have this be a fluffy little chapter with lots of snogging and and snot to close out this story nicely, but no. Instead, Draco decided it would be a nice time for an extremely long rant and Harry decided the whole thing would simply have to be a miserable affair if Draco was yelling at him.**

**Also, rest assured that this is not the last chapter. I wouldn't do that to y'all.**

**Anyway, as usual, please review and tell me what you think! I adore reviews. They are like crack to me. (Or hugs. Or _Doctor Who_.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Please don't kill me. This is short and doesn't really have a plot and I kept you guys waitng for about two weeks, and I feel massively guilty, but I was on vacation with my family, and my mother likes it if I spend time with her and not my computer because she gave birth to me and stuff, and then I came home and I have finals in three weeks and a paper due in two and my teachers are mad, absolutely mad, not to mention the fact that I had to write a scene with the therapist, which simply WOULD NOT WORK the first four and a half times I tried it and also I had to rethink all of my plans in terms of this because of what the boys (yes, I AM looking at you, Draco. That was not cool.) decided to do in the last chapter. So. I am very sorry. Please don't hate me. Also, this will be just about the second to last chapter (probably). Again, I am incredibly sorry. My next story will be written up before I post it, promise.**

**Wow. That was long.**

DHDHDHDH

"You mean to say that he actually _admitted_ he liked you, and_ you _very clearly fancy him like mad, but _nothing happened_?"

Harry looked at her incredulous face and shook his head. "Yes, Ginny, for the umpteenth time today, absolutely nothing happened. Well, actually, not nothing. He shouted at me and revealed that he knows about my _Doctor Who_ obsession, for reasons I cannot fathom, which I suppose is something. But no, nothing in the way you mean it." Harry sighed, Ginny winced, and Harry handed her another spoonful of Pepper-Up Potion.

"Why won't you jut give me the Hangover Potion? I know you have some somewhere. And this Pepper-Up Potion tastes awful," Ginny whined.

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Once again, Ginny, I'm, not giving you Hangover Potion because you were an absolute ass and you drank way too much and you forced me to be shouted at by Malfoy and you deserve a little bit of punishment for that. Seriously."

"Have mercy, Harry! Come on, please! For me? You know you love me!"

"Yes, I love you, but we've been having variations of this conversation all morning and I'm tired of it."

Ginny paused and considered her options. Finally, she said, "So, seriously, nothing happened with you and Malfoy?" Harry groaned and hid his face in his hands. Ginny persisted. "Seriously? Nothing?"

Harry thought very firmly to himself that he needed a new roommate. He stood up and left the flat, pausing only to fiddle with the stereo for a moment.

Halfway down the hall, he heard Ginny shriek and curse.

He had turned on Wagner's _Ride of the Valkyries._

At top volume.

DHDHDHDH

"Harry, I don't know what to tell you. Draco is obviously very fragile emotionally and he doesn't feel deserving of love. You need to think good and hard before you do anything, and if you are serious about wanting to be with him you need to show him that irrefutably." Hermione smiled warmly at Harry. Since he had told her about Draco's rant last night, she had latched on very enthusiastically to the idea of them as a couple and had proceeded to lecture Harry on Draco's loveliness and fragility for the past quarter of an hour, despite the fact that she had not in fact seen Draco since what was collectively referred to as The Incident At Malfoy Manor.

Harry looked at her desperately, shifting in his armchair. "Yes, Hermione. I understand all of this. Ginny gave me the same lecture this morning, except she added in bits about giving her Hangover Potion and how to shag him." He shrugged at Hermione's expression. "Yes. I know, but she's Ginny and she's irritable. Anyway, what I want to know is _how_ to do all of this." Without his quite having meant to, Harry's puppy face had firmly reinstated itself on his face.

She just shrugged and smiled in an irritatingly ineffable, incomprehensible way. "Well, I wouldn't know, would I? I met my one true love at age eleven." She smiled fondly at Ron, the love in her eyes turning rapidly into exasperation when she saw that his face was still frozen into the mask of shock it had become when Harry had informed him of his feelings for Malfoy. As she fussed over and bickered with Ron, Harry summoned his robes and left their flat. Harry loved them both, he really did, but.

They were very rarely any help whatsoever.

DHDHDHDH

Harry shifted his weight on his white chair and immediately felt incredibly self-conscious.

The therapist's eyes followed him as he moved, but she didn't say anything.

The latest Celestina Warbeck song floated into his brain.

_His love swept me up like a tide_

_And his arms are the only ones I can abide_

_Because only he takes me for a contraband carpet riiiiiiide..._

At this point in the song, her voice reached an agonizing high C, and Harry's brain forcibly shut it off, leaving him feeling blank and vaguely empty and feeling more awkward then ever. The therapist was was still watching him.

She had very pale eyes, he noticed. Pale eyes that bore into him with an intensity reminiscent of Professor McGonnagall. He looked down and wondered vaguely if this schoolboy guilt was meant to ever go away.

He hoped so because it was driving him mad. Madder, anyway, he corrected himself. He was quite obviously already a bit mad, at least, he reasoned, or he wouldn't be here. Would he?

And wasn't a therapist meant to help all of that?

Well, the ever-present Hermione in a corner of his mind informed him, you do have to actually talk to them for that to work.

But Harry didn't particularly want to talk, and besides, she had scary eyes.

And so he very pointedly looked away from her, eyes flicking over the walls with their several diplomas (first name whited out on every single one) and towards her desk, a simple, spartan affair with the exception of a small photo in a silver frame. Squinting a little bit, Harry realized with a sudden shock that it was of the therapist herself in a younger incarnation, with an arm looped around a tall, handsome man. And another shock passed through Harry as he sees that the man has a child, a little girl of no more than four or five, balanced slightly precariously on his shoulders.

The therapist had a child.

A beautiful child.

And a handsome husband.

And, fuck, she looked so happy, and glancing back to her now, he could see that happiness lingering on her face.

She had everything he wanted.

And she was totally useless at everything.

At helping him get the everything he wanted and needed and, fuck, he was done with this, done with watching happy people be useless, done with everything.

He was done.

And Harry stood up and left, pausing only to swipe a handful of jelly beans.

He had to do something about this. And he was beginning to have an idea of precisely _what._

**A/N: Please review. Even just to virtually kill me. Reviews guilt me into writing.**

**Also, in the original version of this chapter, I used a fragment of a Celestina Warbeck song created by Sara's Girl, believing it was canon. I'm really sorry for using it without permission, and have replaced it with my own fragment. Again, I am sorry about the misunderstanding. Please check out Sara's Girl, as she's marvelous.**


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